


Exitium

by writing_addiction



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6847273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addiction/pseuds/writing_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At just thirteen years old, Ciel Phantomhive is kidnapped and suffers the loss of her home and both her parents in a single night.  She reappears a month later with a tall, raven-haired woman by her side and ready to take on the mantle of the Queen's Watchdog and police London's seedy underground.  (A genderbent, modern-day retelling of Kuroshitsuji.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a genderbent modern-day version of the Black Butler plot. I'm not sure yet which version of the plot I'll be using, since there are pretty huge differences between the anime and manga. I'm not even really sure yet if the idea is something worth persuing, so it would be really great if you guys could give me some feedback either way. Thanks, and enjoy!

-Prologue: Salvation-

_“Let the bodies hit the floor.”_

 

 **January 14** **th** , **2013**

**3:18 am**

**Location: Unknown**

_Ciel Phantomhive would give anything to escape this torturous existence.  She had lost track of how much time she had spent here, but she was sure there was no hope now.  Her parents were dead, murdered in front of her eyes by the same men who were now keeping her prisoner, so they certainly weren’t going to come rushing in to save her.  Her other relatives, though they would have surely realized she was missing by now, would have no idea where she was or what kind of pain, horror, and humiliation she was being subjected to with every passing second.  They had probably contacted the police, but Ciel knew that they were nothing more than bumbling idiots.  There would be no counting on them to discover this place, whatever and wherever it actually was._

_She reckoned that not even Almighty God could save her from these wretched, filthy mongrels that had imprisoned and abused her._ Perhaps He has forsaken me _, she had thought once, shortly after the men had taken her.  They hadn’t yet touched her then, but she had seen what they were doing to the other children, and she knew that she would eventually share their fate: she would be bound to that rough wooden table in the center of the room and chanted over for hours before one of the bastards would drive a dagger through her chest._

_From the tiny, filthy cage they kept her in, she had watched them perform this ceremony at least a dozen times already, only on females, and death came much more slowly than Ciel would have preferred.  They all lingered, their screams and shrieks at first muffled by the blood filling their lungs but ultimately replaced by wet coughs and strained retching.  When they finally died, the chanting would fall quiet for a few moments, and everyone’s eyes would be fixed on the symbol emblazoned on the opposite wall.  Nothing ever happened, and it was only then that she and the other girls were let out of their cages, forced to clean up the blood and various other bodily fluids that stained the room while their captors shoved the corpse into the back of a waiting pickup._

_As if treating her like a slave, starving and beating her to within an inch of her life, and repeatedly molesting her wasn’t enough violence and depravity for these monsters, they made no secret that their plans to sacrifice her were an attempt to summon Old Scratch himself.  She was special for some reason, a particularly fine gem, as she had overheard one of them say, that was to be saved for last.  She couldn’t fathom why they would treat someone so apparently unique with such blatant contempt and disgust.  If she were really that valuable to them, then why did the leader take such sick pleasure in watching his followers rape her?_

_These men were not fools, as much as they may have seemed like fools to her at first.  The power of the devil must be great indeed for them to go to such lengths to appease him. She had always wondered why the devil had been cast out of heaven.  It made sense now: if he had no power or if he wielded it ineffectively, there would have been no reason why God would be so frightened of an inferior spirit.  She had no idea why these men sought such terrible power, or why she had been chosen to become their means of gaining it.  The one thing she did know is that no one was going to stop them._

_But if the choice was to be forsaken by God or to forsake Him herself, then there was no choice at all.  Her family, the police—not even God!— could help her.  The only person left was herself, and she decided then and there, naked and violated and tied down to that damned table, that she would reach for any tool that could help her climb out of this pit of never-ending pain and despair before it was too late._

_And if that tool was the hand of the devil himself, so be it._

_Suddenly, the candle-lit darkness vanished, consumed by a great shining light.  The light surrounded her, swallowed her whole, and if she could still trust her senses, she might have said she saw white feathers floating around her.  The table she lay on disappeared.  She was caught up into the air, hanging upon nothing and still just as naked and vulnerable as she had been moments before.  Her captors were gone, too, the chanting and the smoke and the vile, oppressing stench of piss, shit, and blood—all of it was gone.  There was only a blank void and the strange white feathers around her_

_They had forced drugs into her before; maybe they’d slipped her something again and she was just hallucinating.  She wasn’t scared, though objectively she knew she should be.  There was no fear left within her.  There was nothing inside her now, no hope, no love, no grace, just an endless, gaping emptiness as black as tar._

_A voice issued from the nothingness and startled her.  “Be careful,” it said, its tones soft but firm.  “If you abandon your faith now, even for a moment, your fate is sealed.  You will forever be forbidden from the bliss of heaven.”_

_Hallucination or not, it was worth a shot.  “Would a true believer ever even_ consider _getting help from a creature like you?”_

_The voice let out a dark chuckle.  “Let me be frank, child: is it your desire to form a contract with me?”_

_“Yes, it is!” Ciel screamed.  She could not see the source of the voice, could not see anything but whiteness around her, and having nowhere to direct her anger only deepened her indignation.  “Now if we have a deal, shut up and get me the hell out of here!”_

_A searing pain shot through her right eye, and before she could process what was going on, she was dropped back on the table and the dead bodies of her torturers were littering the ground.  A hazy presence in the corner of her vision solidified, and a woman began walking towards her.  The clicks of her heels against the concrete floor sounded like explosions in the newfound silence of the room, and the only other sound Ciel could hear was her own ragged breathing.  The woman smiled at her, and the sight made Ciel’s stomach turn.  She took the thin blanket the woman offered her, pulling it around herself as she desperately tried to make sense of what was happening._

_“Such a tiny master I have now,” the woman said.  “What may I call you, little one?”_

_“Ciel,” she croaked, her voice shaking and completely uncooperative._

_“And what will you call me?”_

_Looking up at the woman’s face for the first time, Ciel saw how her eyes were burning, fuchsia-colored flames that cut through the darkness and right down into the depths of her soul.  What kind of name was she supposed to give a demon?  “...Sabrina.”_

_The woman smiled again, lips pulling back to reveal a set of dangerously sharp fangs.  “What is it you wish of me, child?”_

_The word tore out of her throat before she could think to stop it.  “Revenge.”_

_Sabrina’s smile widened, spanning the entire width of her face.  “Then the contract is formed,” she whispered, the flames in her eyes settling into a deep red color.  “Well now, my dear.”  She offered Ciel an upturned hand.   “I believe you said something about leaving this place?”_

_Ciel took her hand without hesitation, hopping off the table and wrapping the blanket tighter around her body, and it wasn’t until years later that Ciel would realize the patent irony of that gesture._

_The hand of the devil himself, indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote appearing at the beginning of this chapter is from the song "Bodies" by Drowning Pool.


	2. Decoration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it only took me 5 months to update this. DX Sorry about that. Life has been kind of hectic lately, and I had nearly forgotten about this project. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long for me to write.

-Chapter 1: Decoration-

_"You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied."_

 

Everyone who knew Ciel Phantomhive well at all was painfully aware of the fact that she was not a morning person.  Truth be told, she was the complete opposite of a morning person.  She had in fact been compared to a zombie on more than one occasion: a hollowed-eyed being only capable of shuffling around and grunting whose primary concern was satisfying her appetite.  She grudgingly agreed that she was a nightmare before ten o’clock, but in her own defense, her distaste for the single-digit hours of the morning might not be as bad if she didn’t find it so difficult to get to sleep at a decent hour.  She was routinely wide awake until three or four, and there were times when the first few rays of dusky sunshine would remind her that even an hour or two of rest was better than no sleep at all.

Her refusal to sleep, as a certain annoying, self-righteous member of the household saw it, had absolutely nothing to do with her nightmares.

This particular morning, Ciel was finding the idea of consciousness more abominable than usual.  Her dreams had been pleasant enough (if not outright absurd in the manner that dreams tend to be), and the soft, encompassing warmth of her bedclothes put up a damn good argument for resisting the cold reality of the waking world and the even colder wood of her bedroom floor beneath her feet for as long as she liked.  She hugged her pillow closer to her chest, but just as she was drifting off to dreamland again, she heard a soft knock at the door.  She flopped over onto her other side, turning her back to the intrusion with the hope of ignoring it altogether, but a moment later the door opened and she heard the familiar shuffle of ballet flats against the floor growing ever nearer to her.

“Rise and shine, my dear,” a woman’s voice said.  Ciel stayed as still as she could; sometimes she could fool her into leaving her be if she pretended not to be awake.

She heard the quiet clatter of a teacup being sat on her nightstand before the woman spoke again.  “It’s time to wake up, Ciel.”

Another long moment passed, and Ciel thought for a glorious half-second that she had been left alone again.  The sound of her curtains being drawn murdered that hope, though, and it wasn’t long until she heard a huff come from right in front of her.  “Ciel, I know you’re not sleeping, so I’m not going to say it again.  Get.   _Up_.”

“Goddamn it, Sabrina,” Ciel mumbled as she pushed the covers away from her top half.  She shivered as she sat up and leaned against the headboard, and she decided that, if she _had_ to be awake right now, she could at least not be freezing cold.  Ciel pulled the blanket back over her lap and tucked it in around her before looking at the woman who sat on the edge of the bed.  

“What a horrible way to speak to your guardian.”  The smirk on her face was even more annoying early in the morning.  Sabrina asked, “Is it too soon for you to think about what you want for breakfast?”

She shrugged.  “Not really hungry,” she muttered, but a sudden loud growling from her stomach contradicted her.  Ciel frowned.

Sabrina’s chuckle did not go unnoticed and was furthermore completely unappreciated.  “What about an omelette?”

“That’s fine.”

“Red peppers and mushrooms?”

“Mhmm.”

Sabrina nodded, standing up and heading towards the closet.  She raised her voice a little to ensure she could still be heard from across the room, and it grated at Ciel’s already frayed nerves.  “I have some of that apple cinnamon oatmeal you like, or I could make blueberry pancakes.  I might have enough granola left to make a fruit parfait, too.  Any of that sound appealing?”

Ciel reached for her phone on the nightstand and also for the tea Sabrina had brought her.  She liked the heat of it in her hand more than anything else for the moment.  She noted the time as she unlocked the device (8:26 am, damn that woman) and went about her morning routine of checking her texts, emails, and various apps.  Sabrina had once called it a ‘sacred ritual that mere mortals dare not interrupt,’ and really, could Ciel be blamed for swearing at her for it?  Aside from a few new pictures of Prince George, she found nothing that caught her immediate interest or seemed urgent, so she tossed her phone down in front of her and considered the infinitely more important subject of the day’s breakfast.  “...oatmeal.”

“Alright, so the agenda for today,” Sabrina began, her voice accompanied by the scrapes and squeaks of hangers against metal.  “First and foremost, that paper on the Roman empire you keep putting off needs to be submitted online by midnight tonight, and seeing as you’ve exhausted your list of excuses not to work on it, I’ve arranged for a Skype call with a Mr. Hughes this morning.  He’s well-known in the scholarly circles for his expertise on the subject, and I thought perhaps the conversation might pique your interest and help you get started.”

Ciel wanted to say that her procrastination stemmed, not from a disinterest in the subject itself, but instead from the general apathy she felt about school to begin with.  She was never going to use any of the things she was learning; why did it even matter if she went to school or not, at this point?  She’d brought the subject up with Sabrina once, and her only response was to grin and lecture Ciel about what an extraordinary gift her education was and how she mustn’t neglect it.  

It was at moments like this that Ciel wondered how long Sabrina planned on letting her live.  Half the time, the woman seemed to ignore the ever-present, unspoken threat that hung in the air between them, the promise that bound them together: Ciel’s soul in exchange for Sabrina’s aid in wreaking her vengeance.  Nothing could change the fact that this woman would one day kill her, consume her soul, and then vanish into the night.  In the end, what did it matter that Ciel could rattle off the order of the Roman emperors or the dates they each reigned?  

Ciel wasn’t in the mood to be lectured, however, so she let the subject drop.  Sabrina continued speaking.  “This evening, you have a business dinner scheduled with a representative of the Poseidon Company, Mr. Damiano.  He’ll be arriving at six o’clock.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but it took her a moment to place him.  “He's...the one who manages the stuffed animal factory in India, right?”

“Yes.”  She reemerged from the closet, one arm ladened with various articles of clothing.  “He’s an Italian gentleman, if I remember correctly.  I’ll make sure to extend him every courtesy once he arrives.”

“Of course you will,” Ciel replied, rolling her eyes.  She looked down at the teacup still in her hands, which had probably cooled off enough to drink by now, and took a tentative sip.  “Is this Earl Grey?”

“It is,” the other woman confirmed, laying the clothing she held onto the foot of the bed.  “Your favorite: Jacksons of Piccadilly.”

The girl surveyed Sabrina’s work: she’d picked several nice pieces--a few dresses, some casual skirts and blouses, that sort of thing--but Ciel noticed a distinct lack of jeans and t-shirts.  She really wasn’t in the mood to wear anything overly feminine, but she was equally uninterested in arguing about it before she’d even had her breakfast.  Still though, if her only plans for the day were to catch up on her school work and have a business meeting in the evening, she refused to traipse around the house all day in something ridiculously impractical and uncomfortable.

“I _can_ actually dress myself, you know,” Ciel griped, waving the woman away.  She gulped down the rest of her tea quickly and slid out of bed.  Padding over to her vanity, Ciel shed her pajamas and considered the variety of eyepatches that lay on the table before her.  Her hand lingered for a few moments  over one that had been a gift from Elizabeth, a bright, beautiful azure that set off her eyes with rhinestones studded in the vague shape of a broken heart, but after some consideration, she chose the plain black one.  She’d changed it later tonight, match it with whatever dress Sabrina would force her into for the business dinner, but for the rest of the day, black was good enough.  

After tying it into place and glancing at herself in the mirror, she turned expectantly to Sabrina again, who was smiling at her.  Ciel was getting tired of being smiled at.  Before she could say anything else, Sabrina spoke.  “Well then, in that case, I’ll go ahead downstairs and start on your breakfast.”  With that, she turned away and headed for the door.  

On a whim, Ciel picked up her teacup from where she’d sat it on the vanity and, after a split second of deliberation, lobbed it at her guardian’s head.

Despite the speed and suddenness of her attack, Sabrina moved aside and caught the cup before it struck her.  She turned to face Ciel once again.  “Your aim is improving, at least,” she commented, and the damn woman had the nerve to smirk at her.  “Be that as it may, I don’t think it’s the best idea to start the day with this foolishness, don’t you agree?”

Ciel’s eyes rolled nearly into the back of her head, and she found that should couldn’t keep the irritated sigh from escaping her throat.  “Whatever you say, Sabrina.”

After her guardian had left, Ciel continued to frown at the door for a few minutes.  Sabrina never seemed to mind the violent methods Ciel employed to test her demonic abilities; more than that, the woman didn’t even seem to be put out by such demonstrations in the slightest.  Her nonchalance at times irked Ciel more than she wanted to admit, but she was also secretly pleased.  Sabrina’s graceful composure in the face of her master’s unpredictable bouts of impetuosity implied that she would remain equally unfazed when the danger was real.  Ciel would accept nothing less from her.

If Sabrina wanted to feast on her soul one day, Ciel intended to make her work for it.

She shook that line of thought from her mind and walked into the closet again.  Tugging on a pair of dark jeans and the first t-shirt she laid her hands on, the girl made her way downstairs.  The aroma coming from the kitchen made her stomach growl again.  Sabrina often chided her for ignoring her body’s needs until she felt sick or faint from hunger, but Ciel mostly just brushed aside her concerns.  She ate what she wanted to eat when she felt like eating it.  End of discussion.  

Upon entering the dining room, Ciel noticed that the table was empty but for the oatmeal Sabrina had promised.  The girl sat down at the table, expecting to be left in relative peace with her breakfast, but just as she swallowed the first spoonful of the delicious cinnamon-flavored dish, the door opened again.  At first, she thought it might be Sabrina bringing her the other part of her meal, but when she looked up, mouth open and breath drawn to make a sarcastic comment, she saw that there was not one but three bodies entering the room.  Ciel rolled her eyes, closed her mouth, and tucked into her food more intently.  She really wasn’t in any mood to deal with the trio of perky, overly cheerful dunderheads this early in the morning.

An series of annoyingly chipper greetings followed almost immediately.   Finnian’s “Good morning, Miss Ciel!” was parroted by Bard and Maylene, and they all asked after her well-being simultaneously.  She shoveled more oatmeal in her mouth and waved at them in response.  She thought seriously about pretending to take a phone call and excusing herself from the room until they’d all cleared out, but her stomach was a bottomless pit this morning and rebelled at the thought of leaving without finishing every speck of food set before her.  She tried to ignore the bright chatter around her, the three of them discussing their plans for the day and the work that needed to be done, and the endeavor was made much easier when Sabrina appeared again.  She sat a glass of water and another plate down in front of Ciel with a murmured, “Tofu omelette with red peppers and mushrooms, as you requested, my dear,” and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Ciel huffed; no help coming from that quarter, it seemed.  Picking up the silverware Sabrina had placed on the edge of her plate, she was slicing into her food when an idea struck her.  She contemplated the fork in her hand and the young blond man who stood about 10 feet from her.  It wouldn’t be too difficult.  She waited until Finnian turned away from her and flung the spiked utensil at the back of his head.

This time, the object hit home.  It made a loud thud before bouncing off his head and falling to the floor, causing Finny to clasp the back of his head tightly and screech in pain.  He ran over to her, his eyes welling up with tears, and beseeched her, “Miss Ciel, why did you do that?  Did I do something wrong?”

Ciel sipped at her water, not bothering to face him.  “You didn’t do anything, Finny.”

“Then why--?”

She sat the glass back down on the table with more force than was strictly necessary.  “I absolutely do _not_ have to justify myself to you.”

Finny inhaled to protest again, but Sabrina entered the room rather suddenly.  Her mouth was sent in a severe frown.  “There you all are!” she exclaimed, moving through the room in three long strides.  She crossed her arms underneath her breasts and scowled at the tree fools in front of her.  “Finny, the garden looks atrocious.  Have you even started weeding it yet?”

The young man’s only response was to look guilty.  Sabrina moved on to the other two, who were shaking in their metaphorical boots.  “Maylene, I believe you were supposed to launder all the bedding today, weren’t you?  And you, Baldroy, should be preparing for Miss Ciel’s very important business dinner tonight, shouldn’t you?”

By the time Sabrina finished with her little speech, all three of them were cowering in a corner, leaning into one another for support.  Finny was still trying not to sob.  It was rather funny to watch, actually: they were scared to death of Sabrina for whatever reason, and if any of them had the sense or the courage to stand up for themselves, they could easily depose her from her self-proclaimed position of Queen of the Household.  Ciel did have to admit that she cut an imposing figure.  Standing nearly six feet high, she was taller than Finny and Maylene, and in the heels she favored wearing outside the house, she was taller than Bard as well.  She spoke with an authority that confused most people she met, and she became especially eloquent when angry.  She was always eloquent around those three.

Her piercings probably did nothing to assuage her fierce image in the eyes of the servants either.  The two sets of rings in each ear weren’t that scandalous.  The septum piercing, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as well-received.   Maylene had asked about it once, why she wanted to look like a bull with a ring shoved through its nose, and Sabrina had shrugged and replied that people generally avoided angering bulls for fear of grievous bodily injury.  They often forgot about the tongue piercing unless they were being scolded, as they were right then, and it was hilarious to watch their eyes go back and forth between staring into Sabrina’s eyes and her mouth with equal amounts of fear and confusion.

“We haven’t got time to waste this morning,” Sabrina took a deep breath, her arms falling to her sides and fists clenching tightly, “so if you would please get to work!”

Bard, Finny, and Maylene scrambled over one another to get out of the room, shouting their promises to do their best, and if she weren’t in such a horrible mood from being woken so early, Ciel might have laughed at them.  As it was, she settled for shaking her head at their nonsense.

Sabrina was doing the same.  “Bloody useless,” she sighed.  Ciel stared at her for a moment, wondering how long her guardian could restrain her temper before her head actually exploded, and then returning to her breakfast.  The omelette was delicious, just as everything Sabrina cooked was, but she was disappointed when she jabbed at the last piece with her fork and brought it to her mouth.  She could go on eating red pepper and mushroom omelettes for days on end.  A vague protest from her abdomen, though, reminded her that gluttony was a rather unattractive quality.

The sound of Sabrina clicking her tongue brought her out of her thoughts.  “Of all the things you could have chosen to wear today,” she complained, “did it _have_ to be that ratty old shirt?”

Ciel laid her fork down and stood up, choosing not to dignify Sabrina’s comment with a response.  “I’ll be in my office,” she said as she exited the room.  

Sabrina’s voice called out to her, slightly muffled by the distance Ciel was determined on putting between them.  “No video games until you’ve done your homework, young lady!”

The walk back upstairs was quiet, peaceful even.  The trio of hired help was scattered across the house, going about their individual tasks with, she assumed, as much determination and enthusiasm as they usually did.  (She only wished, for the sake of her checking account, that determination and enthusiasm were the only two ingredients to good work.  Unfortunately, they weren’t.)  Sabrina was probably busy in the dining room, giving that area of the house an extra-deep clean.  She had a habit of making everything shine spotlessly over every little occasion, and Ciel didn’t feel like wasting her breath to tell her not to worry so much.  The average business dinner that she hosted in her own home was obviously not as important as Sabrina deemed them to be.  No, this meeting with Mr. Damiano would be like any other she’d ever had with him: the conversation would be full of casual sexism, condescending comments about her age and how it surely must work against her in her business dealings, and last but not least, a few eloquent requests for more financial assistance with the factory under his control.

It was almost as if he didn’t realize that insulting her in the same breath as he begged her for a larger budget was a sure way to feed her apathy to his plight.  

Oh, but she would deal with Damiano later.  Right now, her one and only concern was making it upstairs before any of those three bumbling idiots could cross her path again.  As she climbed the carpeted steps, intent on heading for her office and away from the distractions and the racket that everyone else in the house would provide, her gait slowed and came to a halt in front of a large picture hanging on the wall.  It was a photograph of two of the house’s previous inhabitants.  Her parents.  

They were dead.  

She stared at the thing for a long while, momentarily lost in thought.  She often forgot how much she missed them, how the ache in her chest that she tried to ignore had never really gone away after they were taken from her.  Or rather, after she was taken from them, to be technically correct.  She would never, ever admit it aloud, but there wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t wish with everything in her that she could bring them back somehow.  It was stupid and infantile, to allow herself to entertain such an impossible notion to the point where she actively yearned for it; yet here she was, gazing up at the smiling faces of her mother and father and wishing she could have one more day with them.

There were times when she idly wondered if she could order Sabrina to tell her if it was possible, but she never did.  Bringing her parents back to life would essentially negate the reason that Sabrina had entered her life, and she’d always assumed that would be a breach of their contract.  Ciel had never asked what would happen to a person if they tried to break a deal they’d struck with Sabrina or one of her ilk, but she couldn’t imagine any other end than the most gruesome would be waiting for her.

Then end she’d been promised now was gruesome enough on its own.  She’d be a fool to add more misery to that day than she absolutely had to.  

As she continued up the staircase and into her office, she made a mental note to speak to Sabrina about the photograph later.

Just to spite that occasionally-infuriating woman, Ciel played Skyrim for well over an hour before the video call with Mr. Hughes was scheduled to begin.  The call was actually more informative than she had guessed it would be, and it was a hell of a lot more interesting hearing from an enthusiastic scholar than it was reading the same information from her textbooks.  Once she was able to get into the zone and start working, and after she’d exchanged a flurry of text messages with her guardian about the surprising and severely disappointing lack of Red Bull in her mini-fridge--Sabrina’s only response to which was to tell her that her kidneys would shut down if she didn’t cool it with the energy drinks--the paper very nearly wrote itself.  

She wasn’t quite aware of how much time had passed until she uploaded her assignment and saw the timestamp.  Nearly 3 o’clock already?  She had hoped to give herself enough time to relax a little--play some more games, watch something on Netflix, or finally get around to reading the last bit of _Mockingjay_ \--before she had to get ready for the dinner with Mr. Damiano.  If she used her timely wisely, she might be able to rewatch to a couple episodes of Being Human in the background and play something on one of her handheld systems.  And if Sabrina caught her, she could try to pass it off as ‘research.’  Her company had only just broken into the game development field the previous summer, and in order to understand what her consumers wanted and what they would be willing to spend their money on, she needed to understand the things they already enjoyed and why they enjoyed them.

As if by cue, Sabrina knocked on the door with a gentle reminder that her guest would be arriving soon.  Ciel sighed and let out an irritated huff; it was as if the woman could read minds.   _Speak of the devil_ , she thought, _and she shall appear._  The thought amused her more than it probably should have, and she felt a wry smile tug at her mouth.  She never would have guessed how true that old adage would be, or how she would come to have that knowledge personally.  But by now she was more than used to the idea that her life wasn’t going to be anything like it should have been, so she let the train of thought die before it started playing on a loop in her mind.

“Have you given any thought as to what you might like to wear this evening, Ciel?” Sabrina asked politely.

She hadn’t, not really, but she’d left the pile of dresses exactly where Sabrina had laid them all that morning.  It was as good a place as any to start.  She wasn’t going to overly extend herself and get too dolled up for Mr. Damiano, as neither he nor the factory he managed were really all that important to her.  But she did have quite an impressive reputation as a sort of punky fashionista to uphold, even if there was only a shady Italian businessman to witness it.

As if reading her thoughts, Sabrina laid her hand on one of the dresses laying on the bed and said, “I think your goal should be to outsmart him, in every sense of the word.”

Ciel let out a quiet chuckle.  “Kill him with...cuteness, is that what you’re saying?”

Sabrina’s smirk took over her entire face.  “I could do your makeup for you, if you’d like?”

It only took them a moment to come up with a game plan, and when the evening’s clothes had been hung up and the rejects had been stashed safely away into the closet once again, Ciel plopped down on her bed to rest for a few moments before she had to show her face downstairs and play the courteous hostess.  It didn’t exactly come naturally to her anyway, and especially not when her guest was someone she very clearly found offensive and boorish.

Picking up her phone, she answered a few texts and emails before tapping on her favorite mindless game, to help soothe her nerves.  Sabrina was busy steaming the wrinkles of out the night’s dress and laying out all the carefully chosen accessories on the vanity.  Ciel pointedly ignored her.  When Sabrina was done with her task, just about to close her fingers around the doorknob and make her exit, Ciel said, “I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

Her statement caused the other woman to go still, hand hovering mid-air.  “I really don’t think you should eat now, my dear.  You’ll spoil your appetite.  Your very important business dinner is in less than two hours.  You wouldn’t want to insult our guest by not eating with him.”

Ciel kept playing, not even looking up at her guardian.  “So what?  I want a parfait.”

“No.”

Ciel scoffed and sat up on the bed, throwing her feet over the opposite side and tossing her phone next to her.  “Be that way,” she muttered, walking back over to her vanity.  She was considering which shade of lipstick she should wear when she remembered about the photograph.  “Oh, by the way, Sabrina, I want you to get rid of that picture in the hallway.”

Ciel couldn’t quite see Sabrina’s face through the mirror, but she certainly sounded surprised.  “Really?”

Ciel slid off the bed effortlessly and walked over to the windows on the far wall.  She stared through them unseeing, too deep in her own thoughts to put forth the effort to focus her eyes in any meaningful way.  “I’m Ciel Phantomhive, and _I’m_ the one in charge here now.”

Although Sabrina was standing on the opposite side of the room and Ciel’s back was turned to her, the woman’s amused smirk was all but audible in the space between them.  “Of course, my dear.”

As Sabrina closed the door behind her, Ciel tried not to think about how she would feel when the photograph was no longer hanging on the wall.  It wouldn’t matter.  She’d given Sabrina the order, and she would carry it out.  So instead, she took a few minutes to watch Finny work in the expansive yard out front.  He was spraying something, though from this distance, the writing on the can on his back was indecipherable.  She could tell that he was smiling as he went about his work though, which was nice.  Finny had a habit of being disgustingly cheerful at every moment of the day.  It was very strange, and frankly, quite annoying.

With a sigh, she turned away from the window and began arming herself for battle with Mr. Damiano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's header quote was taken from the song "Satisfied" by Lin-Manuel Miranda (Hamilton) 
> 
> As you can probably tell, there are going to be some slight but distinct differences in the dynamics and relationship between my Ciel and Sabrina versus the original Ciel and Sebastian. That's gonna be true of all the characters, I think, and hopefully it's just a product of the modern setting and not some vast misunderstanding of the characters. -shrug-

**Author's Note:**

> The quote appearing at the beginning of this chapter is from the song "Bodies" by Drowning Pool.


End file.
